


What Strength I Have's Mine Own

by hesterbyrde



Series: Friendship is Unnecessary [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Bathing/Washing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Hair Washing, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Spoilers, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 02:46:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14510835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesterbyrde/pseuds/hesterbyrde
Summary: Sometime after night had fallen, through the miasmic haze of despair and entropic questions, Steve heard the latch on his door click. He turned to see the bright glint of Natasha's bleached hair moving in the dark. Something in him eased at the familiar sight."Hey." Her warm alto voice whispered out of the shadows as she secured the door behind her."Hey, Natasha." He replied, turning back towards the railing and leaning on it with his knuckles.





	What Strength I Have's Mine Own

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings all.
> 
> So if you're reading this, you should have seen Infinity War. If not, this story is dark and full of spoilers, so consider yourself warned.
> 
> If you've seen Infinity War, then probably you, like myself and everyone else I know, are completely dead inside. I feel you. That's why I wrote this fic. I needed some sort of softness in connection with what's happened. I don't know that I have it in me to try and fix any of what's happened, but I wanted to try and make it better... for myself, for anyone else who's as heartbroken as I am, and of course... for poor Steve.
> 
> I've always been a fan of sexualized friendships, and while I've never written for the pairing myself, Steve/Natasha is a favorite of mine as those pairings go. So I hope you enjoy my little foray into hurt/comfort friend-sex fluff. 
> 
> Many thanks to KaminaDuck for the hasty beta read! I did some more writing after he had a look though, so typos and errors may still exist. Please let me know if you find any.
> 
> The title is taken from The Tempest by William Shakespeare.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope this lifts your spirits after the sadness that was Infinity War.
> 
> EDITED 12/29/18 - So... this little fic ended up being way WAY more than I had ever planned on. When I first penned this fic eight months ago I was just cranking out 5k words of reactionary hurt/comfort... but that swiftly turned into over 100k words and counting of all sorts of Steve/Natasha/Bucky craziness. Long story short, this fic needed to be updated to reflect the actual backstory I ended up writing for it (AKA I was not planning to take this to poly-town but hey...) So it has been updated. It's not major changes. Just took out some references to Nat and Bucky being just friends... added in some reflection on the Christmas fic and on "Threshold." 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been reading this series and cheering me on and asking for more. Seriously... all it took was one person saying, "I wanna see the first time!" and the rest is 100k words of history. Very smutty history. And there's more to come! There's at least two fics half written coming out early next year and two in the outline phase coming sometime in the *waves vaguely*. So cheers. And thank you.

Wakanda mourned that night. For king and countrymen alike.

The shrill, piercing cries of every shocked and bereaved citizen blended into a single undulating voice that carried far on the humid air. Sometimes the wailing coalesced into song only to dissolve again a few verses later. Drums and chests alike were beaten in anguish. But their grief had a sound. A voice all its own.

And Steve Rogers could hear it crying out into the darkness from the balcony of his room on the upper floor of the palace. 

He'd never seen grief like this. He'd been to his share of funerals. Walked through his share of graveyards and killing fields. Despair did not have a sound of its own that he had been aware of. Even when the grief was fresh, few people made more sound than a soft, composed sniffle. Even when he'd lost Bucky the first time. And then at Peggy's funeral. Grieving in his experience had been a quiet affair. And his own had always been completely silent.

But the lamentation that was raised below him in the city echoed loudly in his wounded heart. It rang in his ears, and at first it had truly alarmed him. As the sound of the anguished wailing grew and grew, he had stepped into the hall to ask the Dora Milaje posted there what was the matter. In a tear-stained voice, she had gently answered him.

"You are hearing our mourning."

Steve had nodded, suddenly embarrassed, before heading back to his room. Back to stand on the balcony, still in his faded uniform, and let the voices of the bereaved wash over him in solitude. The mourning of Wakanda turned to true music as the light of evening failed, and with it Steve's thoughts finally turned inward.

They had lost. And Thanos had won. He'd done what he had come to do and vanished.

And so they were gone. Sam. T'Challa. Wanda. Vision. 

Bucky... 

All gone in a blink. Just like that.

And the vacuous ache left by their sudden theft from the world sucked at his very soul.

And Thanos' immediate departure left questions too. What now? What could they even do? Could this be undone? Where had Thanos gone? What would he do now? He still had the Gauntlet, didn't he? All questions… endless questions and no answers. No answer of what to do besides stand there and listen to the weeping below. Perhaps if he stood here long enough, the tears would rise up and drown him. Seemed fitting since he hadn't found his own yet. Shock still wrung his heart too tightly for tears.

Sometime after night had fallen, through the miasmic haze of despair and entropic questions, Steve heard the latch on his door click. He turned to see the bright glint of Natasha's bleached hair moving in the dark. Something in him eased at the familiar sight.

"Hey." Her warm alto voice whispered out of the shadows as she secured the door behind her. 

"Hey, Nat." He replied, turning back towards the railing and leaning on it with his knuckles.

She sauntered out of the shadowed recess of his room, out onto the moonlit balcony. She walked slowly, skirting him and testing to see if her presence was undesired. But when Steve said nothing, she moved closer, angling her hips against the stonework just an arm's breadth away. She just leaned and listened to the shouts and wails and mournful singing wafting up from the people below.

"Is Clint accounted for?" Steve asked finally, his voice clenched and rough around the clinical phrasing of the question. "Have you heard from him?"

Natasha gave a tight nod and an even tighter smile. "Yeah, he checked in about an hour ago. His..." She paused, swallowed hard and started again. "His kids."

Steve looked at her sharply. "All three?" he had to practically wring the words from his throat.

She nodded, lips pressed so tightly her mouth was just a white line. "Laura too." Her voice cracked like glass on the name.

Steve sighed, letting his head drop back to stare up at the starry sky. "Fuck." he bit the word off with a savage click of his teeth.

Natasha flinched a little at the harshness. It wasn't that Steve didn't swear. It was just… he rarely ever swore like that.

There was another pregnant silence, punctuated by a single voice rising above the collective moaning below. It carried for awhile, balanced on the others, until it petered out to rejoin the chorus.

"Any word on Tony?" Steve asked, the question falling between them like a lead weight.

Natasha looked up at him in surprise, studying the careworn lines of his face. At first she wasn't sure who he was talking about. It was the first time Tony's name had passed his lips in months. And even then it was usually it was just a clipped reference to "Stark" or "Iron Man." 

"Nothing yet." she answered, measuring her words carefully. "Rhodey's working on contacting him, but nothing so far. Not since New York was hit."

He gave an abortive little nod as he worried at his bottom lip. "I only ask because Bruce called me with his cell phone. And he said he was alive when… when he headed up to the ship. Bruce said he tried to get him to call me... So… Y'know..." Steve trailed off as he stretched one leg back into a lunge, letting his head fall down between his massive shoulders. "I… do you think things would have turned out differently if… If I'd signed the Accords? If-"

"Hey hey hey." Natasha laid a hand on his shoulder blade and pulled him up to face her. She pushed back the fringe of hair that had fallen in his eyes and fixed him with a stern stare. "Don't do this to yourself. This wasn't your fault."

"But if we'd all have been together-"

"We would have been just as thoroughly trounced. I'm pretty sure of it." Natasha cut him off, smoothing her hands down his arms. "We all saw what Thanos could do. None of us were trained or prepared for that."

"Tony wanted us to be." He countered, his words almost lost in the sounds of grief from below. "That's why he created Ultron. That's why he...:" Steve broke from her gaze, staring out over the twilit landscape and heaving a heavy sigh. "Sorry I… I… I didn't mean to throw a pity party. I… did you need something, Nat? I should've already asked. You came in here so I thought-"

She cut him off with a shake of her head, pausing to hook a lock of her hair over one ear. "I just didn't want you to be alone. Again. That's all."

Steve gave a tight nod, pressing his lips into a thin line. She felt him stiffen under her hands, as if it was taking effort for him to remain upright. But after a moment, and the finest tremor in his muscles, he fell against her. She'd had to pull him to her at Peggy's funeral… on her doorstep in Morocco... but now every fiber of his being was so saturated with such desperate sadness that it was impossible to stay standing on his own any longer. 

And so Natasha braced herself, one foot behind the other and wrapped her arms around him tight. She felt his arms limply encircle her, but he mostly just leaned and let himself be held. She thought she would hold it together for Steve, like she had at Peggy's funeral. That old Russian stoicism shining through, but at the first choked sob from him, tears sprang into her eyes falling in torrents down her rosy cheeks. 

The reality hit her then. She'd held it together downstairs, but now… now she and Steve had to face facts. They were gone. _Bucky_ was gone. Turned to ash and gone. And who knew how many more besides? There were so many unaccounted for…

She stared off into the hallowed dark of their suite. _Their_ suite. The one they had shared with Bucky. The one where they'd shared their first kiss, right here on this balcony. The room they'd first made love in together. The three of them. The room where Bucky had given them Christmas. It had been home.

Bucky had called it home.

It didn't feel like home now that he was gone.

They cried together, letting the wailing below prompt them to eschew silence. They cried for a long time, til they were both unattractively red faced with swollen eyes and snotty noses, but at last no longer choking on their grief.

When he finally spoke, Steve's words were hot and humid against her neck. "What are we going to do?" 

She just shook her head, letting the fabric of his uniform dry her damp cheeks. "I don't know, Steve." she replied, her voice thick with still falling tears. "We'll figure something out in the morning. But right now? I don't know..."

He sniffed hard and stood up a little straighter, though he didn't let go of her. "I don't even know how long they'll let us stay here. I was T'Challa's guest. It was a personal favor."

"They'll be in official mourning for a week, I heard." Natasha replied, drying her eyes on one of her sleeves. Some of her familiar practicality was creeping back in, and it did them both a little good. They both had squared their shoulders, though they didn't pull apart. "We're probably good at least through the funeral. That should be enough time to figure something out. If they won't let us stay."

Steve sniffed again, his bout of tears lifting slightly. "I'm sorry. If Tony and I-"

"Don't start that." Natasha gave him a shake, before putting her hand on his scruffy chin and forcing him to look at her. "Thanos is not your fault. Don't go down that road of what ifs. It doesn't do you or us any good."

He nodded and gave a teary cough of a laugh. "I guess someone has to keep me from doing it if… If Bucky's not around to." his lip wobbled dangerously when he spoke his dead friend's name.

Natasha couldn't keep herself from stroking his face. Trying her best to smooth the lines of grief from around his mouth and eyes. Concentrating on that kept her from spiraling back into tears herself. "I'll do my best."

"I lost him again, Nat." his voice shuddered under the admission. "Again. I couldn't save him."

"I'm so sorry, Steve." she whispered, heartache turning the words to faint ghosts of sound.

Her hands had strayed into his shaggy hair, the strands tickling pleasantly between her fingers. He seemed to stretch into the caress a little, in spite of everything. As she sank her hands into his hair, Steve let the gravity of her touch carry him forward and Natasha caught his lips with hers as he fell against her again. 

The kiss tasted like salt, and the cruel ache of the day's pain, and the agony and uncertainty of many more to come. Not everyone was accounted for, for better or worse, but for now the balm for this precarious state seemed to come from the press of their mouths.

"Natasha..." Steve breathed her name between kisses, his voice gone thick and saturated. Even before she answered, he'd begun to work his way along her jaw.

"We don't have to. If… if you'd..." The barely voiced offer rang half-hearted at best when she arched her neck to meet his lips. His beard brushed the sensitive hollow of her throat as he nipped at her beating pulse. Nothing about her posture suggested that leaving was what she wanted. She remained curved against him, still half supporting his weight with her fingertips digging into his armor.

Steve shook his head, burying his face in her hair, his arms finally tightening around her. "Don't go."

"I won't." she assured him, turning to capture his soft lips with hers again. She reached around her waist and tangled their fingers together. "Come on. This room is the one with the fancy tub, yeah?"

"Yeah." He replied as he let himself be dragged along by the hand.

"Well, we're going to put it to good use." She said, pulling him back into the shadowed recesses of his room. 

The bathroom was a rather open affair with a high ceiling just like the rest of the suite. And the tub was not made just for one. Two could fit comfortably with room to spare. Four would fit easily if everyone felt comfortable being a little cozy. Even all six foot whatever of Steve could probably float in it without touching the sides. It was more jacuzzi than bathtub.

Natasha pulled her dutiful calm back over her like a second skin as they walked. She hadn't come here to process her own grief. She was here for Steve. And that would be process enough for her right now. 

Once they were in the bathroom, she started the water and then set to work ridding Steve of his uniform. Her clever assassin's hands nimbly worked every familiar clasp and buckle open until she could peel the armor off his chest. It fell on the floor with a soft thump as Steve pulled his undershirt off as well. His skin, though it was dull with grime and sweat, fairly glowed in the filtered moonlight creeping in the window. She smoothed her palms up the sculpted planes of his body and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"What?" Steve asked, finding himself mirroring the expression a little.

Natasha snorted, the smile flowering a little brighter. "Honestly. Do you… Do you ever look in a mirror, Steve?" she asked with a shake of her head.

A flush crept into his cheeks then, and he dropped his eyes to the floor. A warmth bloomed in Natasha's chest at the sight. The serum hadn't changed him. Nor had the adulation and fame. And neither had all the pain and trauma he'd gone through in its wake. He was still just a sweet, awkward, humble kid from Brooklyn who wouldn't back down from a fight. Who was only cocky when it was just him and his can-do spirit between someone else and harm. 

He gave her hope, she realized, her hands still playing over the taut lines of his body. Hope that if all that he'd endured hadn't changed him, then maybe there were equally unshakable things in her as well. She couldn't help herself. She had to kiss him again. She pulled him close, sliding her mouth over his and licking slowly between his teeth to taste the tiny gasp that escaped him. 

A quiet fell over the room, and they both looked down, realizing the water had shut itself off. As she kissed her way along his collarbone, Natasha's hands found their way to Steve's belt and she unbuckled it, allowing him to finish undressing. His pants, underwear, and boots joined the armored jacket in a pile on the floor. 

She had to work not to stare once he was fully nude. He wasn't hard, but then Natasha wouldn't expect them to be. Sex might not even be on the table tonight. But that was fine. That wasn't all this was about. But she still couldn't keep her hands or eyes off him regardless. Not that he seemed to mind. He might've blushed at her compliment, but he sure as hell wasn't shying away.

"Hop in." she said with a vague wave of her hand. "I'll join you in a second."

Natasha made quick work of her own clothes as Steve stepped into the steaming water. The soft sound of bubbles filled the steaming air as he started the jets and sank further into the bath. As she padded up the steps to join him he watched her unabashedly. His face was ruddy from the warm water and from the earlier bout of tears, but something smouldered in his hard blue eyes as he watched Natasha slip into the frothing water. 

"Like what you see, soldier?" she teased, pushing across the tub to join him. She coiled gracefully into his lap and stole a kiss from his smiling mouth, nibbling at his lips with gentle teeth.

"Always." He replied with a boyish smirk as he pulled her against him. His hands were on her breasts in a flash, trailing drops of water in their wake as he smoothed his thumbs over her nipples.

She snorted a little at that even as she arched into his touch. "Not always." she retorted. "What did you think of me when we first met? Be honest."

Steve pouted his lips a little in thought as he continued to thumb at the pert, rosy little nubs. "You were striking. A bit… cool when we first met." he said honestly. But then his eyes went a little distant. "But you were also a SHIELD agent… and I didn't exactly have the highest opinion of them at the time. Since they'd… y'know. Tried to fool me into thinking it was still the 40's. But… I didn't know you. So I tried not to judge."

"That's fair." she lifted one bare shoulder.

"What about you?" he asked with a jerk of his chin and a smile. "What was your first impression?"

She gave a small self-deprecating smile. "I had the home field advantage on you, truthfully. Strike Team Delta was originally supposed to bring you on board too, along with Tony and Bruce. But Fury decided for whatever reason that he wanted the privilege. Probably didn't trust Coulson not to go all fanboy." Steve actually laughed at that. "But… even though that mission didn't end up happening, I'd done a lot of reading already."

"And?"

She wound her arms around his neck, letting her head loll to one side as she regarded him. "You were what I expected, for the most part. Smart. Strong. A little heavy handed with the moral compass. Especially to me. And especially at the time."

"For the most part?" Steve echoed. "What didn't you expect?"

"This for one thing." She leaned in and gave him a brief but luxuriating kiss. "But I had you pegged for a "big picture, greater good" kind of guy. I… I wouldn't have expected you to go to bat for Bucky… or anyone… like you did." _Or me..._ was clearly what was meant by "anyone."

"Were you disappointed?"

She shook her head, the ends of her hair trailing in the water. "No. I like you the way you are."

Steve gave a satisfied little hum as he leaned forward for another kiss. Natasha sighed as his tongue pressed into her mouth, and she sank her hands into his hair again. It was so soft. It was a crime that it had ever been cut so short.

As if sensing her thoughts, Steve pulled off with a laugh when he felt her toying with his hair. "I need a haircut."

Natasha gave a mock-petulant frown. "Says who?"

"Says Bucky." Steve answered softly. "Or he did anyway."

"He and I never did see eye to eye. He did like the beard though." Natasha opined, trying to keep the mood light. She'd gotten him smiling, which was a victory unto itself.

"Yeah?" Steve laughed. "Do you like it?"

"It's grown on me." she replied. "Let me wash your hair for you. Hmm?"

Steve smiled again, and Natasha's heart fluttered at the sight. "I don't know when the last time was that someone washed my hair." He said, but even still, he was letting her drag him to the head of the tub so that she could sit up on the top step.

Natasha gathered the shampoo and a bottle of conditioner that had the fragrance of perfumed wood, and then she arranged Steve between her legs. He dipped his head back to wet his hair before he pillowed his cheek against her thigh and sighed. Some of the lines etched into his face with worry and grief faded a little just from the closeness. Another small victory for the night.

She squeezed a generous amount of the shampoo into her hand and started working it into a lather against his scalp. He pushed into her touch, his eyes falling closed with contentment. And for a long while as she worked, there was just the soft slosh of water and the steady hum of the bubble jets. Even the sound of the mourners had faded, either with distance or time.

"I wish we didn't only come together when… when the bad stuff hits. I wish… I wish we'd had more time." Steve said, opening his eyes and staring off into the dark. "This is… nice."

"You could chalk it up to the fact that we see a lot more bad stuff than most people." she suggested, lifting her shoulder in an elegant shrug.

"We both know that's not true." he replied.

She stroked her fingers through his wet hair, pulling his eyes up to meet hers in the dark. Her blonde hair shadowed her face, but her eyes glinted in the shadows. "For what it's worth, I'm glad we have this at least."

"Me too." He stretched up, greedy for another kiss, which she granted him even from the awkward angle.

After awhile, and a ridiculous amount of suds, Natasha nudged him forward to rinse his hair before tugging him back and starting in with the fragrant conditioner.

"I'm going to smell like the perfume counter at Martin's." Steve opined, even as he laid his head back against her massaging fingers.

"Where?"

"It's an old department store" he answered. Then he chuckled to himself. "I don't even think they're around anymore."

"Well your hair, that you aren't cutting by the way, will be nice and soft in addition to smelling good."

"I won't cut it as long as you're around to wash it for me. Deal?"

She really did smile then. A smile wide enough that the bridge of her delicate nose crinkled. "Deal."

"Want me to do yours when you're finished?" he asked.

"I already had a shower before I came to see you."

"You weren't planning on bathtime I take it."

She lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug as she continued to work the cream through the ends of his hair. "I wasn't particularly planning on anything. I just wanted to see you."

"And now that I've seen you…" He rolled over in the water, planted a hand on either side of her hips and pressed himself up to eye level. "You wouldn't be particularly opposed to me um… planning something?" The delicate, mischievous smolder was back in his eyes, and it had Natasha breathing a little easier. And harder.

"Opposed? Never." she replied as she nudged him again with her knee to go rinse the conditioner out of his hair.

"Get some towels then." he said, dropping back so the water covered everything but his face.

She nodded, standing up and heading for the linen basket. Behind her, she heard the soft splash of water accompanied by the suction of the drain. She turned and looked to see Steve rising up out of the tub, soaking wet with faint curls of steam wafting off his skin into the cooler air. It was like sculpture in motion. Her mouth went dry for a moment as he crossed the bathroom to her. His muscles gleamed and his eyes crackled with that same inner fire she'd seen earlier. And his cock swung full and heavy between his legs.

Apparently, sex was going to be on the table tonight after all. While it hadn't been her goal exactly… well, who was she to deny a friend in need?

Seriously, did the man never look in a mirror?

"Is that towel for me?" He asked when he'd stopped in front of her, a knowing grin bending his lips.

She blinked and then realized she'd only pulled out one towel before her brain had short circuited for a second. "Yeah, here you go." she said passing it to him before pulling one out for herself. 

They both toweled off quickly and headed for the bed. Steve reached it first, drawing back the comforter and the sheets and sliding in. He rolled onto his side, leaving room for Natasha to tuck in beside him. She fell over him like a wave on the beach, pushing him flat against the bed and kissing him senseless. He moaned into her open mouth as he let himself be plundered. She was done being gentle and taking it slow.

She reached down, cupping his balls and giving them a teasing squeeze before dragging her hand upwards, splaying her fingers out across the shaft of his cock. Her touch grew lighter and lighter until it was just a ghostly sensation against the head, which leaked in response to her teasing. She repeated the motion, feeling him fill out even more. His cock jumped against her palm as she mirrored the motion inside his mouth with her tongue.

"God Nat…" he groaned raggedly as he curled around her. "Fuck…"

"Mmm… Language, Steve." she chastised with the cutest curl of a smirk on her lips.

That earned her a real smile and a biting kiss that threatened to eat the smirk off her face as Steve ground into her open palm.

"Tell me what you want, Steve." she whispered, suddenly feeling desperate. Her own insides had begun to clench with every kick of his pulse in her hand and dribble of precum on her fingers. 

"Just… just you. Nothing fancy. Nothing elaborate. I just…"

In response she rolled onto her back, pulling him with her. She pressed his thick fingers against the lips of her pussy and said, "Get me ready and I'm all yours."

He licked his fingers, tasting her on his skin as he swiped at them with his tongue. "Just one?" he asked.

"Two. And use your thumb… like you did last time."

He nodded, eyes glinting in the dark as he pressed two fingers into the slick clutch of her body. She bowed up off the bed at the intrusion. Truthfully, it was a bit much to start. She forgot how long his fingers were. And how thick. It was just on the verge of pain, but when his thumb slid over her clit, the discomfort vanished. Replaced instantly by a soothing, electric pressure that coiled low in her hips. She gripped his elbow and rode his hand with slow undulating rolls of her body.

"Nat…" he breathed the nickname across her skin as he leaned down to take one nipple in his mouth. His wet, velvety tongue swiped across the sensitive flesh sending her arching into his grip even more. 

Natasha let herself be strung out on the sensations. The curl of his clever fingers deep inside her. The swirl of his thumb over her swollen clit. And the sweet, hot suction of his mouth over her nipple. It all coalesced into a cloying fog that seemed to roil faster and faster as the pressure in her core built. Tighter and tighter he wound her. This wouldn't take long. It never did with him. He had a knack for remembering exactly how to make her body respond.

And sure enough she was bowing up off the bed again in minutes, nails digging into his upper arm as he cradled her with the other. Her vision went electric white behind her closed eyelids, and his name was on her lips…

"Steve… Steve…" she cried, her voice gone thin and fluttery as her pussy clenched around his fingers.

"You want another one?" he asked, a pleased smile on his perfect mouth as she tried to remember how to breathe again.

She shook her head as she fought to find words other than his name. "I'm good. I want you."

"Like this?"

She just nodded this time, spreading her legs in answer and pulling him between them. He lined himself up, braced his weight on one arm, and slowly began to press inside her. At first his eyes had started to roll back in his head as he started to lose himself to the wicked heat of her pussy, but he shook himself and focused on her face.

Natasha felt so wonderfully and curiously vulnerable as he gradually worked himself inside. The stretch of him filling her was amazing, making stars dance across her vision as it bordered on too much sensation. His keen eyes watched her expression, and calculated her every shudder and gasp. He didn't want to hurt her or go too fast. Maybe he didn't look in a mirror often, but he clearly knew he was… amply endowed. He was being careful, she realized. He had always been careful with her.

She soundly quelled those concerns by spreading her legs further apart, wrapping them around his waist and pulling him in. He sank the rest of the way in a single thrust that pushed all the air out of her body in a reedy moan that rang off the high ceiling.

Steve shuddered, his hips making abortive involuntary thrusts as he sought to bury himself even deeper. She felt so soft and greedy beneath him and around him. And she was staring up at him, mouth open gasping for breath as her muscles clenched around his cock. Relief, comfort, and want mingled in her eyes as she raked her nails lightly over his back.

More, her whole body seemed to beg, though she clearly couldn't find the word anymore. More.

Steve eased himself out, and then pushed in again, drawing another thin whine out of her along with a full body shudder. The motion repeated a handful of times, each one sweeter than the last as she grew slicker, and her muscles squeezed him tighter. 

"Is this it?" He asked, as his hips curled against hers and she arched towards him. "Is this how you wanted it?"

"Yes." She let her breath hiss out on the word as she met his next thrust. The irony was not lost on her that while she'd come to comfort him, he was the one fussing about satisfying her needs. But then again. That was Steve. That's just who he was. She cradled his face in both her hands and kissed him gratefully as he rocked into her again and again. She mirrored the movement of his cock with her tongue, licking into his mouth on each thrust to taste the growing desire and desperation there.

Steve pulled back from her lips, his pace quickening. The motion of his hips had shifted gradually from a roll to a snapping thrust that shook the ornate headboard over their heads. A light sheen of sweat had broken out on his skin as he worked them both in tandem.

"I'm … I'm not going to last long." he admitted through gritted teeth. "Do you…"

She grabbed his free hand and pressed it down over her navel. They both shouted abruptly at the increased sensation, catching a new rhythm together as they chased after their shared pleasure.

"I'm going to come." she said, the words ragged. "Just… don't stop. Just like that."

"I won't stop. I can't. You feel so good, Nat. Just… just a little more…"

Natasha's vision went white again as the slick clutch of her body overwhelmed him as well. His thrusts became erratic before he finally just grabbed her hips and held himself deep inside her as his cock pulsed out a thick load of come into her warm pussy. They froze at the apex of a thrust, holding onto each other as if for dear life.

After a moment, or perhaps a handful of moments, they drew a deep breath at the same time. It was as they had both been holding their breath all evening. Steve reached down and grabbed a towel, wiping them both down before tossing it back, vaguely in the direction of the bathroom door.

"I don't think I need to tell you this, but you're amazing." Natasha said, her voice gone hazy in the afterglow.

Steve pulled her against him with a prizewinning smile. "I like hearing that. Since it means I don't need to ask if it was good for you."

"Was it good for you?" she countered, looking up at him.

"Oh yes." he answered, dropping a kiss against her sweat-dampened hairline. "Always."

A moment of silence passed between them, and on its coattails came the remembrance of why they were together in the first place. The sheets whispered as they adjusted against one another to let the sweat evaporate from their overheated, over-sensitive skin.

Natasha wondered if he was comfortable. "I don't have to stay if you'd…"

His arms tightened around her. Tighter than they'd been all night. Serum tight. Captain America tight. "I've had enough of people leaving me in my life, Nat. Especially today." he answered, cutting her off gently. "Don't leave me tonight."

She nodded, mostly to herself before curling one slender arm across his broad back. "Never."

Natasha meant it. She wouldn't leave him to his fate. Leave him alone with his grief. Not now. Not ever. They would need each other in the days to come, no matter what they held. Be it a way to reverse what Thanos had done, or just a way to move past it. She wouldn't leave him.

Plus, if this was anything like last time… he'd want another round in the morning.

"And hey." Steve hooked a finger under her chin and tipped her face up to his.

"Mmm?"

"I don't want you to be alone either." He said, his eyes gone sad and serious.

She couldn't stop herself from kissing him, sweet and chaste on the lips. "Neither of us will be." she whispered, before tucking herself against the hollow of his throat.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at @littlethingwithfeathers.


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